


Moustaches in the Mist

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Firefly
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Silly, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-21
Updated: 2007-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash was sure his moustache made him look distinguished; Zoe wasn't so sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moustaches in the Mist

**Author's Note:**

> For Halloween, I wrote ficlets for people who "knocked" on my virtual!door. (Final total: 12.) [](http://writes.livejournal.com/profile)[**writes**](http://writes.livejournal.com/), my fifth visitor, appeared "dressed up as a gorilla... a girl gorilla with creepy makeup." Originally posted [in the thread available here](http://caras-galadhon.livejournal.com/344496.html?thread=2649520#t2649520), this is an expanded version.

Wash had never seen a gorilla. And honestly, he wasn't even sure there were any left in the 'verse to see. But Zoe said that when she was nothin' more than a little girl, she'd paid a credit to sneak a look at a gorilla in a cage, and while she could never quite tell if it was a real animal or someone in a mask, it had seemed so sad, cooped up and unmoving other than the heaving of its chest.

Secretly, Wash doubted Zoe had ever been anything other than his Amazon Queen; that she had sprung forth, fully-formed, a perfect balance of smart and beautiful and fierce and woman, too perfect to have ever been anything other than what she already was. But he believed everything that she said, and if she said that she'd been a little girl, then she'd been the most ferocious, most stunning, most clever little girl the skies had ever seen; and if she said seen a gorilla, then she'd seen what she said she saw.

And so when he brought up the prospect of growing back his moustache, wanting to look a little more distinguished for his beautiful bride, the news that it had always made her think of that poor caged-up gorilla -- clinging to the bars, sagging, matted fur wobbling with each breath -- made him abandon on the spot all thoughts of growing it back.

Still, as he stood at the mirror, razor in hand, the first promising stubble about to be beset by the blade, he couldn't help but feel a small twinge of something quite like regret at the extinction of such a noble, proud animal as the hair on his upper lip.


End file.
